Angel in a Trenchcoat
by aelitaheiderich
Summary: A video surfaces of Cas on the Internet and certain people become very interested in meeting Cas. When an undercover group attacks the boys and Cas on a hunt, it is up to Dean and Sam to figure out a way to save their angel.
1. Chapter 1

Angel in a Trenchcoat

Chapter 1

It had been a quiet few weeks in the bunker. Things were quiet all around, in fact. Sam and Dean checked the news dutifully for possible hunts every day, but there was little to find. One evening, bored with research and not really wanting to dive into the sea that was Netflix, Sam started searching some of the more esoteric paranormal sites. When he began chuckling under his breath, Dean didn't notice, but when Sam threw back his head and laughed, he had to know just what his brother was looking at.

"It's a site about angels," Sam said, wiping tears away from his eyes. "And it's really, really, hysterically wrong!"

"Really? How wrong?"

"Oh, so wrong. We need beer to read these," Sam answered. "You'll laugh your head off."

Always eager to find something to make him laugh, Dean fetched a six pack from the fridge and took a seat beside his brother. Within minutes, both of them were laughing so hard they couldn't breathe.

"Oh, man!" Dean wheezed after a half-hour of angel stories and so-called "lore." "What were these guys smoking when they wrote this site?"

"Whatever it is, I want some!" Sam answered, fighting to take a deep breath. He paused, read a few lines, and kept laughing. " 'Angels are particularly pleased with an offering of crystals.' Crystals! Oh, this site keeps getting better and better!"

Dean started reading titles of the articles out loud, his voice more and more obscured by laughter. "How to entice angels to you, how to summon your guardian angel, what will please your guardian angel, angel names and their meanings, offerings for angels, stages of angels...angel sightings. Oh, we gotta click on this one."

"I don't think we should," Sam said, still grinning fit to crack his face. "We'll bust our guts!"

"Gotta click," Dean repeated, clicking the link.

Most of it was what they'd expected...coincidences that confirmed people's belief in a benevolent God and his angels, natural phenomena, and one post where the poster had most likely been drunk. Sam read the post and fell out of his chair, laughing too hard to get back up. Dean started laughing so hard the was sure he could be heard in every corner of the bunker and all he could do was howl, "Angel _sex?! Really?_ "

Dean toppled to the floor to join his brother and the just lay there and laughed. There had been too little laughter in their lives lately, and it felt great to find something to laugh about, even if that laughter was debilitating. Eventually, they both calmed down enough to pick themselves up from the floor.

"That seems kind of blasphemous," Sam stated, scrolling past that particular post.

"Kinda, yeah," Dean agreed. "What's that link there?"

"A video," Sam said, reading the blurb underneath it. "Says here a man was ejected from a car during a crash and an angel appeared out of nowhere and saved his life."

"Really? Let's see that one."

It was a chaotic clip. A group of friends had been walking along a city street and one of them had been filming. The sound of a crash startled all of them and the camera whipped around to show the remains of a car and a damaged truck. There was someone lying in the road, gravely injured, and suddenly...something...could be seen crouching next to the man. In the next second, it was gone and the man started to sit up. " _Did you guys_ _ **see**_ _that?_ " one of the people in the video asked. Apparently they hadn't. " _See what? See what, dude?_ "

"Cool," Dean said as the footage ended.

"Hang on, there's more," Sam told him. "Watch."

The rest of the footage showed the camera zooming in on the crouching form next to the injured man, the image was cleaned up and refined, and the viewer could clearly see a man in a suit and a trenchcoat, and just behind the man's shoulders, there were two black, feathered wings.

"Holy…" Dean breathed.

"Oh, man," Sam gasped. "Dean, that...that's…"

"Castiel," Dean finished, grabbing his cell phone. "We gotta call him."

* * *

"I thought you couldn't teleport anymore," Dean said once they'd explained what they'd found to Castiel. "You said yourself that your wings were...broken."

"Occasionally I can," Castiel corrected after a moment. "I have to...really concentrate on a place where I'm really needed, and I can only stay for a short time before I...zap...back to where I was before I teleported."

"Uh-huh," Sam sighed, looking confused. "How long have you been able to do this?"

"A few months. I don't do it often since it's tiring, but it has come in handy."

"You'll have to be really careful where you zap from now on," Dean said, turning the computer toward Castiel and clicking play. "Take a look at that."

"Ah," Castiel said once the clip finished playing. "I see."

"Yeah," Dean said, dropping into a chair. "In the past two weeks since that video's been posted, people online have taken it and run with it. There's now a whole website and forum dedicated to just that video and people trying to figure out more about you."

"Why are your wings showing?" Sam wondered. "I mean, they don't show up in photos."

"Probably because a video camera is more advanced than a photo camera, and my angelic nature is most engaged when I...zap."

"So just standing somewhere and being filmed won't show them, but using your zappy abilities can cause your feathers to show?"

"Seems likely," Castiel admitted. "Should I...be concerned about this?"

"Possibly," Sam told him, taking a seat at the table. "If you show up on camera enough, people will start looking for you, and that includes the police and other authorities."

"Not to mention certain people who would just love to get their hands on an angel," Dean added. "You know, I've been looking through the archives here and the Men of Letters have an impressive amount of stuff on angels." So saying, he handed a file to Castiel. In it were pages summarizing everything that the Men of Letters knew about angels or supposed about them. The final page stated the author's wish to get hold of an angel for "research purposes."

"I see your point," Castiel said after a moment.

"Is it possible for someone to capture an angel if they don't use holy oil and fire?" Sam asked.

Castiel nodded. "Possible, yes, but not likely. They would have to know how, first, and they would have to have the angel hold still long enough to be captured. Then, once they've captured him, they have to make sure that what they're using to hold him doesn't move. Otherwise, he could break free."

"Are you saying that there's something that humans can make or use to capture angels?"

Castiel flipped through a file. "There is. Whoever wrote this file guessed at a lot of things and even more things are little but conjecture, but this he has right."

Sam took the file and started reading. "Silver chains soaked in holy oil where each link has Enochian sigils for binding and capture carved on them. This would work?"

Castiel nodded. "It can. It would keep an angel in place long enough for any captor to figure out how to secure him. This researcher was far closer to the truth than he knew."

"Great," Dean groaned. "Do you think anyone else might know about this?"

"I hope not," Castiel said after a moment. "That could be...bad."

"Once again, you have a gift for stating the obvious, Cas," Dean told him, clapping the angel on his shoulder. "Let's hope no one else has thought of this."

"Amen," Sam answered.

* * *

They didn't think about what they'd learned for the next few months. They were too busy with hunting and with their annual trip to Vegas. For the first time, Cas joined them, and he spent time with Dean in his favorite haunts and some time with Sam while he was camping. Then, on the last day they hit a casino. After winning a thousand, they went to a buffet to celebrate.

"Are these shrimp or baby lobsters?" Castiel asked, examining one of the buffet offerings.

"They're giant shrimp," Dean said. "And before you ask, no, buffalo do not have wings."

Castiel rolled his eyes and fixed Dean with a look. "I knew that."

"Does food still taste like molecules to you, Cas?" Sam asked as they settled at a table.

"Unfortunately," Castiel said with regret. "I did enjoy eating. I really miss PB and J."

"I wish I could make you a PB and J you could taste," Dean told him. "Couldn't you just...I don't know, snap your fingers and make it so you could taste food again?"

Castiel shook his head. "No, but I would like it if I could do that."

Talk turned to other matters then and the next morning the three of them piled into the Impala for the drive home. They listened to their favorite songs, played Slug-bug, and just enjoyed the drive. They were almost to Kansas when they stopped at a filling station. It was your typical country filling station with a bunch of older guys gathered in a group on benches outside. One of them was wide eyed and relating a story about a haunted barn outside of town. Gathered around the older men were a group of younger men and a few women, all of them wearing matching T-shirts that read, "Greater Midwest Paranormal."

"One of those paranormal groups," Sam cautioned his brother and Cas.

"Yep," Dean sighed. "Let's just take care of business and get home."

Sam and Dean headed to the bathroom while Cas purchased drinks for all of them-he didn't dare purchase just two when there were three of them in the car. People, he'd learned, would notice the smallest things and become suspicious. He was halfway to the car before he heard someone shout at him.

"Hey, man! Get out of our array! We're testing it!"

Cas looked down and saw himself standing in the middle of a grid of metal wire. The thing was hooked up to what looked like car batteries at each corner. A man and a young woman, who was holding a camera with a filtered lens, were both glaring at him. "Sorry. Long trip. Little tired."

"You could have gotten fried," she said, looking through the camera's viewfinder. "Wake up, huh?"

Cas murmured another apology and headed back to the Impala. Sam and Dean joined him a minute later.

"Sounds like a classic ghost," Sam said, referring to the conversation he'd overheard.

"I don't particularly want to do a salt and burn right now, Sam," Dean told his brother. "Besides, the ghost isn't attacking anybody, it just screams at them to get out."

"But doesn't a ghost need to be put to rest before it becomes vengeful?" Cas asked. "We should check it out to be sure it is a ghost. It could be something pretending to be a ghost, you know, and it's just waiting for the chance to snatch a victim."

Dean thought about it. "Yeah, you're right. Let's go before the Scooby gang gets out there and gets in trouble."

* * *

It took them two hours to find the right barn. Dean groused for a full ten minutes how no state in the whole country had as many barns and Sam had to remind him more than once that they were still in farming country.

When they finally found the barn, they headed inside, armed with salt and iron and everything else they needed. For a few minutes, they found nothing, then Sam swore.

"Looks like the Scooby gang left some cameras here," he said, pointing them out.

"Well, damn," Dean groaned. "Wait, do you think it's possible they caught anything on the ghost?"

"We'd have to check, Dean."

"Well, let's check."

All three of them were watching absolutely nothing on a camera's playback when Cas heard something. It was far too faint for a human to hear, but he heard it and moved to the center of the barn, trying to listen. His foot struck something and it slid a few inches away from him. He crouched and picked it up. Why would a sound recorder be in the barn? Why was it playing a child's cry on a wavelength too low for human ears to discern it? "I found...something."

Dean's attention was still on the tape. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, it's…"

"NOW!"

Light flooded the barn and the floor underneath Cas came to life. Cas went rigid as volts of electricity flooded his body and the smell of burning straw reached his nostrils.

"What the hell?!" Dean yelled as the lights blinded him and Sam.

The electricity intensified and Cas fought against screaming. Angels could feel pain, of course, but what was normal pain for an angel could obliterate a human. "Stay where you are!" he choked out over the crackle of electricity, fearful of what would happen to Dean and Sam if they reached him. They would be electrocuted before they could help him. "Don't move!"

"What the hell's going on?!" Sam demanded, his arms over his eyes.

Dark figures with goggles over their eyes flooded the barn and approached Cas. Electricity cut off as they threw…something... over Cas. The weight of it knocked the breath out of him and drove him to the ground, and in the next moment, he was rigid again, facedown on the barn floor. It took him a minute to make out that what was covering him was a silver chain net.

"Do it quick!" one of the strangers shouted as Dean and Sam fought to focus their eyes. Dean made it to his feet, became disoriented, and knocked into Sam. Both of them went down, and two of the strangers broke off to immobilize them and cuff them. Cas was pleased to note that both of them got in a few good blows before the light became too much for their eyes and they had to close them.

Sudden words chanted in a loud voice made all of them stop and listen. Cas heard words for binding and revealing...a second later he felt a burning pain on his shoulder blades that made him arch his back and scream. He felt something in the air around him...shift..and then tear as a new physical weight settled on his back. The electricity cut off then, allowing his weary body to rest.

"Holy crap," someone breathed. It took Cas a few minutes to recognize the voice as that of the man at the gas station who'd yelled at Cas for standing in the array. "Central wasn't kidding."

"Who the hell are you people?" Dean demanded, blinking streaming eyes.

"You don't have to worry about that," a woman told him, removing her goggles. "And don't worry about your eyes. They'll be okay in a few hours."

So saying, she and one of the men approached Castiel and pulled him to his feet. Before he could struggle, they slipped silver manacles onto his wrists and then pulled the net off of him. The smell of burned holy oil reached him and he had to swallow hard to keep himself from being sick. They let go of him and he staggered, his two now-corporeal appendages dipping forward in an effort to keep himself balanced. "How...how did you do that? What have you done to me?"

With an effort, Sam opened his eyes and looked. There was Castiel, with two black wings unfurled from his back. He stared and then had to close his eyes again as black dots began to fill his vision. How on earth had they done that?

"A little spell for revelation," the woman said. "Got your balance yet?"

Cas shifted on his feet and blinked. His eyes still stung from the floodlights, but his vision was returning to normal. He looked down at his wrists, puzzled. It took him a minute to spot the Enochian sigils on the manacles and what he read made him very, very frightened. He wasn't just trapped, he was bound. The manacles would keep him where he was. Even if he found a way to escape, they could stop him in his tracks with a word as long as those manacles were on his wrists.

The woman smiled, reading the horror in his face. "I'm glad I don't have to explain your situation to you, angel. If you come along with us like a good little boy and you don't fight us, then we'll let those two live. Do we have a bargain?"

"Don't you dare," Dean growled. "Don't you dare do it, Cas! You hear me?"

"Cas?" the woman repeated, looking at Castiel with interest. "Is that really your name?"

"A nickname," Sam added hastily. "It's not like we can pronounce his real one. Human vocal equipment can't really produce the sounds necessary for it."

Right away Castiel realized what Sam had done for him. Names had power, especially over supernatural beings. If they heard his full name, then they might be able to use it in a spell.

"Well, what is it be, Cas?" the woman asked, moving to stand next to Sam and Dean. She had a gun in her hand. "Are you going to make this easy, or is it going to be hard?"

"I'll come. I won't struggle," Cas said quietly. Bound he might be, but he wasn't entirely helpless, and this woman knew it. Still, he didn't want them to hurt Sam and Dean. "Please don't hurt them. They're my friends."

"Are they really?" she said, looking at the still-blinking Winchesters. "What makes these two guys so special that they get their own tame angel?"

Cas didn't answer.

"All right, take care of them," she told one of the people standing guard over Sam and Dean. "We've got to get back to Central. They're waiting on their guest."

Cas nearly panicked when he saw one of the guards pull out two syringes, but two very large men took hold of his arms and turned him toward the door. "I'm coming with you! You don't need to kill them!"

"We're not," the woman stated. "They're both going to take a nice nap for a few hours and then they'll be fine."

Cas could hear both Sam and Dean curse as they were injected, and then came the sounds of their breathing deepening and their heart rates slowing as the drug took effect. He was pleased to hear the sound of their handcuffs being unlocked, and then he was pulled out the door. A black van was there, with its doors standing open, and he was pushed inside. His guards placed him in a seat, allowed him to position his wings so he would be comfortable, and then belted him in. A second later one of them placed a blindfold over his eyes. "What's this? This isn't necessary!"

"Just taking precautions," he heard the woman say as she slid into the van. "Riley, make sure his hands are secure. Any music preferences, Cas?"

Cas grit his teeth as he felt chains wrapped around his wrists and locked. He already knew that he did not like hearing her say his name. "No."

"Great," she said happily, as he heard the beep of buttons. "How about a little culture? I'm sure you'd enjoy that, being an angel."

He ignored the statement as the engine turned over. "Where are we going?"

"Central." He heard her settle back in her seat as the strains of an eighteenth century composer filled the van.

"I gathered that. Where is it?"

"That's a secret, Mr. Angel," she said. "Just settle back and enjoy the trip. If you want to listen to something different, just say so."

Cas took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He had no idea where he was going, what would happen to him when he got there, or even if Sam and Dean were still conscious. He had a strong feeling that he wasn't going to like their destination.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Since retaining his memories of actually being in Naomi's hands and the aftermath of Rowena's spell, Cas had a lot more knowledge of fear and how it felt. If he were to be truly honest with himself, then he would say that he was very afraid. He was afraid of what would happen to him when they reached their destination, of what their plans were for him, and he was afraid that he would not be able to get away. He'd been kidnapped and held prisoner before, of course, but those past experiences had usually been at the hands of either angels or demons. Now, he'd been kidnapped by humans and he had no idea if that was good or bad in comparison to his past experiences.

He was thankful that he still had a seraph's hearing. He could hear six heartbeats around him: all of them were elevated from adrenaline and one person had a benign heart murmur. It made an interesting counterpoint to the other heartbeats. Everyone's breathing rate was elevated as well, and with the elevated heartbeats, he could tell that they were all very, very alert and vigilant. Curious, he shifted in his seat. Immediately the heart rates and breathing increased. They were all watching him.

He wasn't sure what he thought about that.

They'd been in the van for several hours already and so far, they hadn't reached their destination. From what he could tell, they were heading in a northeastern direction. He could hear the sounds of places he'd been before with the Winchesters, and he could smell the water of Lake Michigan, but they were still several hours away from that. If he were to guess, he would say that they were headed somewhere near Chicago.

If he'd been talking with Dean or Sam, one of them might have remarked at how good he'd gotten at finding his way around compared to his early days. He'd been able to travel instantly anywhere, but he really didn't know where he was or where he was going until after he'd been there. Now, he knew where things were located and their general direction, thanks to studying maps at the Gas n' Sip and an atlas he'd found in the library at the bunker. It had been an unconventional education in geography, to be sure, but it had come in handy.

"I forgot to ask, do angels need to use the toilet?"

The woman's voice brought him out of his thoughts with a bump. "No."

"Ever?"

He wasn't going to go into details, and definitely not with her. "No."

"What about eating and drinking?"

"No." Although, if he'd been able to taste it properly, he would have asked for a PB and J to soothe his nerves.

"Ooookaaay," she drawled. "Out of curiosity, do you sleep?"

Cas thought about the times he'd let his mind drift and let himself 'zone out,' as Dean would call it. He did not do it often, but it let his mind rest when he needed to relax. "Not exactly."

He felt the interest surrounding him shift and sharpen. They were all listening.

"What do you mean?" the woman asked. "If you don't sleep, what do you do?"

"I do rest," he said, thinking about the times when he'd lose himself in daydreams and his own thoughts. It wasn't necessary for him to do that, but it _was_ nice. In the days ahead, he might need to do it regularly just to keep himself calm. "But it's not what you'd recognize as sleep. I'll sit somewhere quietly, I won't speak, and my eyes won't focus on anything in particular. That's how I rest." If she was taking notes on him for later, he was pleased to be able to give her this little bit of misinformation now.

"Interesting," she said. He heard the rustle of paper and the scratch of a pen. The humor of the situation was not lost on him. "Do you dream?"

"Nothing like what you would recognize as dreams," he admitted. He knew how humans experienced daydreams-he'd had them himself while he'd been human-but he doubted they would understand how angels experienced them. "My dreams would be…hmm."

A sudden inspiration hit him then. Like all angels, truth was a part of his core, which made lies he'd heard from his brothers and sisters all the more painful to hear. Even avoiding certain truths was painful for him to bear. It was _difficult_ for him to lie since lies went against his very nature, which was probably why Dean said he was a terrible liar. Still, he'd been able to keep his activities with Crowley hidden, even from Dean and Sam. He'd been able to keep other things hidden as well. If his actions in the past were any indication, then he could _lie_.

"What are your dreams like?" the woman prompted.

"They consist mostly of the voice of my father," he said at last. Let her chew on that for a while.

"What does he say?"

He didn't expect that. What to do? Then, inspiration struck, since it really wasn't her business. "That's between us, not you."

"I see."

He doubted she did, but oh, well. "Out of curiosity, where are we going?"

"Why not let it be a wonderful surprise?"

How was he to answer that? "I'm just wondering if I have time to rest."

"How long does that take?"

"It varies," he said truthfully. "Sometimes it takes a few minutes, other times it takes days."

Silence. Oh, how he wished he could see their faces!

"We have some time before we get there," she said, dashing Cas' hopes of a time estimate. "Will you wake up on your own once you've finished?"

"Yes." So saying, he leaned back in his seat and slowed his breathing. A moment later, he was perfectly still.

"Do you think he's asleep?"

The whispered comment would have made Sam and Dean crack up.

"Do you think any of us could tell, Riley?" she whispered back. "Just...be quiet and let him be."

Time passed. Dean would have turned on a radio and started singing along with the lyrics. These people, though, seemed content just to sit and listen to music. None of them spoke for the longest time, and then, "Is he still breathing?"

"I think so." The lightest of touches on his chest. "Yeah, he's breathing."

"I've never seen anyone be so still before, even asleep," Riley said after a moment. "Do you think he can hear us?"

"If he can, he must be amused as all get-out," she muttered. A pause. "I wonder if he's dreaming."

"Do you think...based on what he said before...do you think God is talking to him?"

Silence as everyone pondered the question.

"I hope not," the woman stated. "That's too BIG, you know?"

"Kristi, we're already in BIG," Riley reminded her. "We kidnapped a freakin' angel, you know? God could have smited us, or something."

"Isn't it smote?" someone chimed in.

"Huh?"

"Smote, past tense of smite?"

"Dude, you're worrying about something like that now?" The disbelief was practically dripping from Riley's voice.

"Guys, shut up, you're going to wake him up," Kristi hissed.

Silence fell again, leaving Castiel to his own thoughts. He wished, with all his being, that his father _would_ step in and do something to help him. His father had always been distant, but when he'd been young he'd never doubted his father's love for each and every one of his children. Even the light that his father emitted just by being let him know with every breath he took that he was loved. When he'd searched for his father, during all the chaos of the civil war in Heaven and everything else, he'd never doubted that love. God had been gone for the past few years-no one knew where-and all of them were missing him. If only...no, best not to think like that. He would only make himself sad.

The best and strongest memory he had of his father was the memory of his birth. There had been nothing, and then there had been a glorious consciousness of overwhelming love. There was warmth and light and glorious beauty all around him, and then he felt the very solid presence of two arms encircling him. "Hello, Castiel. Hello, son. Welcome." With those words, purpose settled in him, and the arms had held him close long enough for him to receive a kiss on his forehead, and then he was passed to the arms of an older brother, who would care for him and teach him until he was older. During the scores of years that it had taken for him to grow, he'd been trained to God's service-to protect and shepherd humans and to fight if necessary to protect Heaven and God's creations.

That brought forward another memory. The first time he'd seen humans. It had been eons after he'd seen that first fish stumble up onto the sand, and his father had called all of them to see his latest creation. They'd been formed from the earth itself, but they'd been given enough of their father's grace to be...well, human. He'd stared down at the sleeping man and woman and saw beauty. He'd dared enough to ask his father a question. "Father, what are they called?"

That beloved countenance regarded him warmly, and a hand reached out to caress his hair. "They are 'human,' Castiel. It will be up to all of my children to protect and guide them. You, as well. Will you do this for me?"

His answer had been "Yes." He'd been amazed that his father had felt the need to ask, but Lucifer's actions had given Castiel the reason why he'd asked. God had become more serious after Lucifer had been locked away, and more distant, but the love Castiel felt for him had never waned. It was still strong now, even though sometimes it hurt. Once he'd heard Sam say that you always loved people even when it hurt to do so, and Castiel supposed that that was true for humans and angels.

"Do you think he's dreaming? His wings are twitching."

"Maybe he's dreaming of flying. Wouldn't surprise me."

"He said his dreams don't work like that."

"What if the Big Guy is talking to him?"

If only, Castiel thought. He wished he could go home to the bunker. If he were home, he would probably be watching Netflix with Sam and Dean, or debating some obscure bit of information in the library, or working out with Sam. That had been a recent development. Sam had wanted to change up his workouts and Castiel had offered to teach him some of the same fighting that he'd been taught. Sam had leaped on the chance and even Dean would set aside what he was doing to watch to the two of them spar.

"Guys, could we please drop the subject? And remember to stay quiet or you'll wake him up!"

He didn't know what prompted him to do it, but he stretched and flexed his wings before giving a deep sigh. He startled himself because the chains on his wrists pulled and his whole body jerked. He was now "awake." "Hmmm?" He paused. "Oh. Right. I've been kidnapped."

"Ladies and gentlemen, the world's calmest kidnapping victim," Kristi stated dryly. "Sleep well?"

"Mmmmnnn. Where are we?"

"That's a secret. You don't sound too awake."

"I woke up suddenly. Takes me a moment." Let them think he had trouble waking up. That might help him later. "Are we there yet?"

Silence, and then the sound of choked off laughter. Then, they were all laughing. "Um, what did I say that's so funny?"

"That's a classic question for a car trip," Kristi said. "People have said it so often that it's become a joke. The answer is no, but we'll be there soon."

"How soon? And how long have we been traveling, anyway?" They hadn't stopped once during all those hours.

"Soon," Kristi told him. "Do you need a pit stop?"

He couldn't resist. He knew what a 'pit stop' was due to his long association with Sam and Dean and Metatron's gift of popular culture, but he just wanted to mess with them a little. "Why would we stop in a pit? Wouldn't it be hard to get out?"

Every single one of them cracked up. He could hear the driver pounding the wheel and the high breathless laughter of Kristi. Finally, she calmed down long enough to take a breath and talk. "Oh, man!" she howled. "Oh, man, I hope we get to take more road trips with you in the future! You're a riot!"

"Call the warden, man, we got a riot on our hands!" Riley shouted, making all of them crack up again.

She calmed down enough to explain, and an idea occurred to him as soon as she'd finished. "It would be nice to stand up and walk a little bit."

"Okay. We'll stop in a few minutes."

Ten minutes later they stopped. The doors of the van opened and Castiel felt fresh air wash over him. Someone unfastened his seatbelt and carefully he got to his feet and stepped down to the ground. He reached for the blindfold but hands stopped him. "Leave that on."

"Why?"

"Just leave it on."

Castiel left it on and let them lead him in a walk around the van. Once, twice. On the third trip, he stopped, bent his knees, and with two blows, his guards were down. One slammed into the side of the van and the other he heard land on the other side of the road. Two of the other men, who'd gone into the trees Castiel could sense nearby, cursed and started toward them. Before they could even lift their feet, Castiel had the blindfold off and his wings up, and then he was in the air. He couldn't "zap" while bound, but he could very well fly!

A spoken word from Kristi, and he slammed into the ground with enough force that he made a crater. His entire body ached so much that he heard a gasp of pain escape him. Slowly, carefully, he sat up, his body screaming at him the whole way.

"You're in a lot of trouble, young man," Kristi growled. "You just wait until we tell Central about this."

Castiel glared at her, the pain making his mood absolutely foul. "Bite me."

Riley and the other men exchanged glances. "How does an angel know that?"

"It's the company I keep," Castiel snapped as Riley and the other men got him to his feet. He glared at Kristi until they put the blindfold back on him and bundled him back into the van.

"Kristi, how are we going to explain the condition of this van to Central?" The two men Castiel had hit had managed to pick themselves up. They weren't injured, but they would definitely be bruised and sore. The one who'd hit the van had taken one look at the damage his body had caused and asked the question.

"We'll tell them that our little angel had a temper tantrum," she muttered.

"It wasn't a temper tantrum, it was an escape attempt," Castiel muttered. "Or are you so hopeless that you failed to see it?"

"The snark is strong with this one." Riley intoned.

"Shut up, Riley! And you, you nightmare in a trench coat, you stay quiet, or I'll gag you."

Castiel was quiet. Then, one of the other men spoke up. "Kristi, I think you hurt his feelings."

It was their turn to be confused. He laughed a good five minutes, and then refused to tell them what was so funny. Sam, Dean, and Bobby would have known, though.

* * *

Sam had heard his brother curse before. If things went really, really wrong in a short time, then Sam could count on hearing an entire litany of curses before Dean calmed down. That was why he was so surprised to wake up and hear...nothing. He stretched and winced at the taste in his mouth. Whatever they'd been injected with had kept them asleep for a good long time. "Dean? You awake?"

"Yeah."

Sam fought his eyes open and spotted his brother. "Oh, good. You okay? What do you think they gave us?"

"I don't care what they gave us," Dean said flatly, reaching down to help Sam to his feet. "That's not important. We've got to find Cas."

Outside the barn, it was broad daylight, probably about noon or so. The bright sunlight made them both wince as their heads started pounding.

"Damn," Sam gasped as they slipped into the car. Immediately he rummaged in the glove compartment for their sunglasses. "Head hurt?"

"Like a bitch," Dean said, dropping into the driver's seat and taking the sunglasses that his brother handed him. "Let's go find some coffee somewhere and then get home. We gotta figure out where they took Cas and then figure out how to get him back."

They stopped only long enough to get some breakfast and two very large coffees from a drive-thru window, and then they headed straight for the bunker. Once there, they found some medicine for their headaches and dove into the Men of Letters' files.

"So what are you thinking?" Sam asked.

"They said 'Central' last night," Dean said, flipping through a file folder. "That reminds me of something I saw in the files here."

"Can you remember which file?" Sam asked as Dean closed the file and replaced it in the cabinet.

"Not of the top of my head, but I'm going to look until I find it."

"Which files are you looking for?"

"The ones about other groups that focused on the supernatural. The Men of Letters kept files on all of them. One day I was bored, so I started looking through all of these. One of those groups called itself the Central Institute for Parapsychic and Paranormal Research. I've got a strong hunch that they're the ones who took Castiel."

"And you read the whole file?" Sam asked, intrigued.

"Yep," Dean admitted. At Sam's surprised look, he shrugged. "What? I was bored."

It took several hours, but they finally located the right file.

"Got it! Here it is!" Dean flipped open the file and began to read. "Looks like the Men of Letters gave them a status of 'keep on watch,' meaning that they kept their eyes on this group. They kept a timeline of this group's activity, and they were not above theft or kidnapping, it seems. A powerful psychic came to the group's attention back in 1925 and when he declined to work for them, he disappeared. The Men of Letters weren't able to figure out what had happened to him until nine years later, when they came across the man by accident. He was with two men and he recognized the Men of Letters for what they were and he begged them to help him. They were able to get him away from his guards and relocate him somewhere safe."

"Okay, that's the kidnapping. What about the theft?"

Dean turned pages. "A lot of artifacts from museums and rare books from libraries. Hmmm. This is interesting."

Sam reached the for the file. "What?" Then he saw what his brother had commented on. "Oh. A book on angels?"

"A very rare and extremely old book on angels from the early days of the Christianity," Dean read. "Only one copy was known to exist, and it was stolen from the archive that had it."

Sam opened his laptop and Googled the book. "Yeah, here it is. _Vita Angelorum_ , no author listed. It's actually a papyrus codex, which was common back then." He stopped and scrolled through more of the article he'd found. "Interesting. It's written in three languages, kind of like a Rosetta Stone."

"Okay," Dean said, dropping into a chair next to his brother. "Which languages?"

"Aramaic, Latin, and one that has not been deciphered. When people first sat down to translate the book, each text read something different. The Aramaic read like the Creation story from Genesis, except there was a lot more detail. The Latin was a description of Heaven and the final line in that section refers to the next, stating, _Now I shall tell you of the mission of the angels, the same words as spoken by God._ After that, no one's been able to translate it."

"They didn't happen to Xerox the thing, did they?"

Sam checked. "Even better. They took photos." So saying, Sam clicked on one of the thumbnails from the book. "Oooohhh, damn. What does that look like to you?"

Dean looked and cursed under his breath. "Enochian. I wonder if these Central people know they've got a book that could be read by an angel."

"Let's hope they don't put one book and one angel together," Sam said hopefully. "Any information in that file as to where they might be located?"

Dean grabbed the file and looked through it. "The closest they could figure was somewhere around Lake Michigan."

"Great," Sam sighed. "That's only a couple hundred square miles, right?"

"If only we could talk to Cas for just five seconds…" Dean complained. "Wait a minute. Oh, I'm an _idiot_! His cell phone!"

Sam brought up the GPS as soon as Dean finished his sentence. "I'm just as big an idiot, so blame it on whatever drug they gave us. Wait! I've got him!"

"Where?!"

Sam put the coordinates into his computer. "Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore!" Sam checked the time and date on his computer. "They got there fast, too. How did they do that?"

"Who cares?" Dean asked, running down the hall.

"Where are you going?" Sam shouted after him.

"We need all the weapons in the armory! We're going to rescue Cas!"

* * *

Castiel was sure that they'd broken either speed limits or the sound barrier for how fast they'd traveled. Either those two options, or a spell. He heard Kristi mutter something, smelled something burning, and then there was a jolt that made him and everyone else groan.

"I hate it when you do that," one of the guards complained.

"It was taking too long, and I want to be there," she snapped. "Quit bellyaching."

"Remember that one time you almost caused an accident?"

"No."

"We sure do."

"Do you want to walk the rest of the way?"

Castiel couldn't resist. "Yes, if you're going to keep bickering."

He could practically feel the glare he was getting from Kristi. "Keep it up, feathers." Fortunately, though, they all shut up.

Fifteen minutes after that, the road under the car changed. Their speed decreased, and then there were a few turns, another change, and another decrease. Then, the air pressure around them changed as the car headed down a slope and inside somewhere.

"Okay, everybody out," Kristi said as the car stopped and the engine cut off.

Castiel was helped out of the van by his guards and marched through what sounded like a garage. It had the same acoustics as the garage at the bunker and even the same smell. He was led up some stairs and outside. The scent of water and sand hit him and the night air caressed his face. "Where are we going?"

"Almost there," Kristi told him.

That was when Castiel heard the helicopter. It wasn't close yet, but it was getting closer. Yes, now it was close enough for the humans to hear it. "Please tell me that we're not going in that."

Kristi chuckled under her breath. "An angel afraid to fly?"

He'd been thinking more along the lines of Sam and Dean being able to find him. A helicopter ride might make his trail go cold. Also Dean was afraid to fly. It might not occur to him that a kidnapping that began by car could end by helicopter. "I've never ridden in one before."

"Don't worry; we won't let you fall out," Kristi teased. "As long as you're good, at least. Besides, you've got wings."

The helicopter landed and they led him forward. Hands pushed down on his head so he would move toward it bent forward and then they helped him up into the copter. Hands maneuvered him into a seat and strapped him in, the others took their seats, and then they lifted off.

The roar was deafening and he nearly throttled himself on the stupid chain binding his wrists when he tried to lift his hands to cover his ears. Why were the sides to such a craft open? He was ready to start complaining of pain when someone took pity on him and placed headphones over his ears. They deadened the sound by a fair margin and he was able to relax a bit.

The ride lasted thirty minutes or so and then the helicopter began its descent. Slowly they dropped down toward the surface of the lake...no, there was something else there. He felt the helicopter touch down, the engine cut off, and the rotors slowed.

"At last," Kristi groaned. "I can't wait for a hot shower, some tea, and my bed."

"We have to report in first," Riley said.

"I know; I meant after that," Kristi answered. "Let's go."

Cas was unbelted, helped to his feet, and helped out of the helicopter. He was led away from the helicopter, across an asphalt surface, and into a building.

"Kristi! There's my girl! Ah, well done!"

"Are we there now?" Castiel demanded while the new man who'd spoken approached them. "Could you take off this blindfold?"

"Sure," Riley said, and Castiel felt fingers at the back of his head. "Hold still."

The blindfold was removed and Cas opened his eyes in time to see Kristi jump into the arms of an older man, who hugged her and swung her around. "How did it go, kitten?"

"A few minor hiccups, but you can see we got him!" Kristi said happily. "Come see!"

The awe on the man's face was a surprise. He'd expected everyone at their destination to be as supercilious as Kristi, but instead, this man looked positively delighted to be meeting Castiel.

"Hello there," he said, stepping close to Cas. "I'm so happy to meet you! Did you have a good journey?"

Cas stared at him. "Are you unaware that I've been kidnapped?" To illustrate the point, he held up his bound hands.

"No, no, I'm quite aware," he said. "I ordered you to be kidnapped."

Cas stared at him. "Excuse me?"

"I ordered it," the man repeated. "Forgive me for not introducing myself sooner. I'm Oswald Thompson, and I'm the present director for Central. I ordered you to be brought here."

"Why?"

"You're the only angel we know of in existence on Earth right now," he said with a smile. "We devote ourselves to studying the supernatural and paranormal and you are both in flesh and blood. We owe it to humanity to find out all we can about you."

"And for such a goal you needed to kidnap me?"

"Would you have come if we'd issued you an invitation?"

Castiel glared at him. "No."

"Sorry?"

"I said, NO. I'm not going to stay here just so you can study me. I refuse."

Kristi smirked at him. "It's not like you have much choice, Cas."

Oswald looked at her. "Cas?"

"It's what those guys called him. Nickname. They said that humans can't say his real name because we don't have the right voicebox or something."

Oswald looked intrigued. "Really?"

Cas kept glaring. He could tell that Oswald wanted him to explain further, but he wasn't about to. "Take these chains off and the manacles. I'm going."

"You're welcome to try getting loose on your own, Mister Cas, if you like. Once you figure out how to do that, you're free to go."

Cas looked down at the chains. They were coated with holy oil and carved with Enochian sigils for binding. With those sigils, only the person who'd put them on could take them off. "You already know I can't."

"Then there's nothing to worry about, is there?"

The man was almost a match for Crowley for pure snark. "Do you really want to risk keeping me prisoner?"

"You don't seem much of a threat. Chained up like that, you look like a little bird waiting for a nest," Oswald told him before reaching out to stroke Castiel's left wing.

The touch reverberated through him and left his wings twitching. Castiel hissed and jerked away, pulling his wings in tight around his body. "Never do that again, or I swear to my father that I'll smite you."

Oswald looked him up and down. "Interesting. Let's get you settled in, shall we?"

The simple suggestion sounded like a threat.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Castiel wasn't given a chance to agree. His guards marched him to the left and he was able to look around where he was. There was a large central hall, and hallways leading off it left, right, and center. An open second story was above, but they turned away from the stairs and down the hallway. Oswald, Kristi, and Riley stuck with him and Castiel noted that all of them looked a lot like each other. It was fully possible that they were family, but his surroundings distracted him from pondering that further.

The building was a hive of activity. People moving here, there, and everywhere. Doors opening and closing. There was a loudspeaker overhead announcing "...arrival of Guest 1128 dash B5, advancing down west corridor. All personnel are to remain alert and render aid if needed." Since they were in the western hallway, Castiel supposed that the loudspeaker must be talking about him. It was a little disheartening to hear himself described in such a fashion, but he supposed that was how they did things.

They reached a large glass sliding door bearing the legend, INFIRMARY, and his guards led him through it. There was a sitting area to the left, exam rooms on the right, and he was marched right to the back, through two more sets of sliding doors. The second had to be buzzed open, and both Oswald and Kristi had to use keycards to open the door. All of this security was making him rather nervous. It was like going down a rabbit hole with no idea of whether you'd ever get out.

"Dr. Wallace?" Oswald called.

"Here," a man in a white coat said, pushing aside a curtain. He wore glasses and a stethoscope. "So, this is our new one?"

"His name is Cas," Kristi said helpfully. "He's a bit of a brat."

Cas gave her what Dean and Sam called his 'bitchface.' He'd had enough of her snide little comments and attitude. "When you talk about yourself, don't attach my name to it."

Riley grinned and clapped him on the back. "Thank you, man! Aw, that made my day!"

Kristi bristled and looked ready to start shouting, but Oswald forestalled any further arguments. "Must we bicker, children?"

Kristi stalked away and dropped into an office chair, her entire being radiating indignation. He could hear her muttering under her breath about barbequed wings.

Dr. Wallace ignored the whole thing and focused his attention on Cas. "So, do you prefer 'Mr. Cas' or just 'Cas'?"

Castiel looked the doctor up and down. He did not appear unkind. "Cas is fine." He looked at Mr. Thompson. "Why am I here?"

"All of our guests get a check-up when they arrive," Oswald said with a smile. "I'm interested in seeing how yours turns out."

"I do not consent for this," Cas said immediately, and he returned his attention to Dr. Wallace. "As a doctor, you need my consent to examine me, don't you?"

"If we were in a regular hospital, yes," Dr. Wallace confirmed. "However, we're at Central's main base. The government doesn't even realize we're here, so unfortunately, the laws governing consent don't apply here."

"What about your Hippocratic Oath?"

Dr. Wallace gave him a warm smile. "I'm not worried about it, and you shouldn't be, either. Now, I'd like this to go as easily as possible for all of us, so please do as I ask you, and you'll be out of here in no time, hmm?"

Cas reflected that Dr. Wallace was just as bad as Kristi. His guards left after removing the chains from his wrists (thankfully Kristi, Riley, and Oswald all left with them), and all that was left on him were the manacles. Two very large orderlies appeared to take the places of his guards and to help Dr. Wallace put Cas through his exam.

It was extremely unpleasant. He was made to remove his trenchcoat, his jacket, his tie, and his shirt and undershirt, as well as his trousers, socks, and shoes. He was weighed, his limbs, torso, neck, and head measured, and put through a series of physical exercises that measured his range of motion and his strength. Photographs were taken of him, front and back, standing with his arms out to his side and his feet apart. More were taken with his wings against his back, stretched to the side, and lifted. Close-up photos were taken of the scars on his body and the one tattoo Jimmy had had done on his abdomen. X-rays followed of his entire body and his wings, and ultrasounds of his internal organs. An MRI was done of his brain, and he was thankful that silver was only weakly magnetic and fortunately, the fillings in his teeth made no difference. He'd seen a show on television once about someone who'd had a lot of metal in his body that had to get an MRI and the experience had looked very unpleasant.

After the MRI came...samples. The inside of his cheek was swabbed, a sample of his hair and saliva taken, and then several tubes of blood. A bandage was placed over the collection site and Dr. Wallace replaced his gloves with clean ones. "Cas is an interesting name," he said, turning to look at Castiel. "How did you get it?"

"Dean and Sam gave it to me," Cas answered. It was true. Everyone before them had called him Castiel.

"And why did they call you Cas?"

Cas smiled as a memory came back to him and he knew what to tell Dr. Wallace. He'd been in the car with Sam and Dean and the Mamas and the Papas had come on the radio, and he'd told them that he liked the sound of Mama Cass' voice. "I liked hearing Mama Cass sing, so they called me Cas."

"I see," Dr. Wallace said, picking something up from a tray and approaching Cas. "Now, could you hold your right arm out for me?"

Cas immediately felt cautious. "Another blood sample?"

"No, I need to take a skin sample. It will hurt, but if it's any comfort, the sample I take will help advance humanity's understanding of angels."

With one fluid move, Cas knocked the two orderlies away and sent Dr. Wallace head over heels. He was off the gurney and headed toward the door a split second later. He blasted through the glass and headed toward the next set of doors as an alarm started blaring. He was almost there when something hit him from behind and knocked him down. Pain shot through his back as they landed on his wings and pinned them down, and then four other orderlies arrived, dogpiling on top of him.

"Now, really, Cas, that wasn't necessary," Dr. Wallace said as the orderlies got him to his feet. "Where did you think you could go?"

Castiel fought to move. He managed to shift a few inches away, but that was it. There were too many people holding him where he was. "I don't want you to do this!"

"A little pinch and then it'll all be over," Dr. Wallace promised as one of the orderlies moved so the doctor could reach Cas' arm. He took hold of Cas' wrist and shifted so he could pin Cas' arm between his side and his elbow.

A cold swab against his skin, the sharp smell of alcohol, and Castiel felt the scalpel slice into his flesh. He flinched in pain and he could feel the blood welling up from the cut. He hissed as the scalpel cut deeper and made a noise deep in his throat.

"Shh-shh-shh-sshhh, you're almost done," Dr. Wallace soothed as Cas tried to pull away. "Just a second more. A little bit more...that's it." So saying, he slipped the sample into a petri dish and another orderly took it away. "All done. You did very well."

Cas glared at him. "Screw you." He felt at least two orderlies jerk in surprise at that, but they recovered quickly and led him back to the gurney. He was laid down on his back and he was put in restraints, on his wrists and his ankles. Dr. Wallace turned to bandage the incision site, but it was already healed over, the scar fading into nothing.

"Incredible," he breathed, putting the supplies aside and picking up a magnifying glass. He held it over the site and examined it. "Do you always heal this quickly?"

Cas stayed quiet.

Dr. Wallace took a photo of the site and smiled at Cas. "I think this is the start of a fascinating relationship."

"I'm not available," Cas snapped.

Dr. Wallace just chuckled and patted Cas on the head for that. He fetched a blanket for Cas so he could stay warm, and then took a seat beside Cas and started asking questions. Any serious illnesses or injuries? How did his body manifest illness? What symptoms could they expect? Was regular exercise required? What about sustenance?

Castiel lost his patience quickly. Dr. Wallace was trying to sound like a friendly doctor doing a routine checkup and it was all just really a forced torture and question session. It was best if Castiel told him just the basics that would ensure he would at least have the chance of escaping later. "I require exercise and sunlight daily. I do not eat. My past injuries and illnesses are none of your business."

Dr. Wallace gave him a long look. "A patient should be honest and forthright with his doctor, Cas."

"You're not my doctor."

"As long as you're here, I'll be your doctor," Dr. Wallace answered lightly. "If you don't feel like talking right now, we can talk later when you're ready. If you'll agree to behave, you can get dressed and then the orderlies will take you to your quarters. I'm sure that you'd like some time to relax and settle in."

"That would be nice," Cas admitted. He was tired of being in the infirmary with all its discomfort and endless questions.

With four orderlies and Dr. Wallace watching him, Cas pulled on his clothes. He tried not to wince as he saw the tears that his wings had made in the back of his coat. He did not know what spell had been used or how it had forced his wings into corporeal form, but he was very interested in finding out just how and where they'd learned it. Carefully, he pulled on his coat, his wings slipping through the tears without catching, and he settled it on his shoulders, feeling more like himself.

One of the orderlies radioed someone and escorts arrived for Cas. Without a word, they slipped the spelled chains back onto his wrists. More were wrapped around his arms, chest, and wings and he was led away. As they walked, Cas looked carefully at the bindings. One of the sigils invoked fatigue, which was probably why he was suddenly so tired. Clearly, they didn't want him to have the energy to fight back. Once more, he wondered where they'd learned what they knew.

He was led out of the infirmary, down the hall, and into an elevator. One of his guards swiped a keycard through a reader and Cas heard machinery hum as soon as the doors closed. The ride, though, was confusing. He couldn't tell if they were moving up or down. After a minute, the doors opened and he was led down another hall, buzzed through two doors, down another hall, and into a room.

"Here we are," one of his escorts told him. "You should be comfortable here."

Cas had expected a bare room with perhaps a cot and a toilet, like a jail cell. Instead, he was looking at a very comfortable room. There was a double bed with a mound of pillows and a plush comforter. There were rugs on the floor, a table and chairs, a bookshelf full of books with an easy chair and a lamp in front of it, a desk and chair, and an entertainment center. An open door led to the bathroom, and Cas could see both a large bathtub and a sizable shower stall.

"There should be everything you need, but if there's something missing, be sure to let us know," the escort told him. "Also, if you want something, let us know, and if it's something we can provide, we'll do our best to get it for you."

Cas looked around the room, more than confused. "Why so many comforts? I'm a prisoner here, aren't I?"

"You may not be allowed to leave, but that doesn't mean we have to be cruel. We generally find that our guests are happier and healthier when we see to their comfort. You wouldn't be an exception just because you're an angel. If anything, we want you to _like_ us, at least a little bit."

"I'm a kidnapping victim," Cas reminded him. "That might be a little difficult under the circumstances."

"Well, we can be understanding," the escort said. "There is a guard on duty, twenty-four seven. If you need anything, ask him. The button beside the door will allow you to call him. Now, we were told you don't eat, but do you drink? Do you require water or anything else?"

Cas thought about cool water going down his throat. He didn't need to drink water, but occasionally, it felt nice to drink it. "Drinking water would be nice, thank you."

"Okay, we'll get that for you. In the morning at nine o'clock, one of our psychologists will be coming to talk with you. Until then, you can do as you like."

Cas was confused. "Why would a psychologist come to talk with me?"

"We weren't told why, but ten to one, they'd like to get an idea of how you think and what your personality's like," he said as the escorts began to take the chains off him. "Now, how familiar are you with human technology?"

Cas looked at him and had to fight down a smile. He lived with Sam and Dean. Of course he would know how to use technology by now. "I know how to work Netflix, and I'm sure I can figure out anything else on the entertainment center."

"Great," the escort said with a grin. "The last person we brought in didn't even know television existed, and when we explained the Internet, he just got confused."

Cas felt rather sorry for the poor guy. Also, they brought him in? Was he another "guest?" "How did he take to the helicopter?"

Two of the escorts grinned at him. "He didn't understand at all, but he's been educating himself."

"He's still here?" Suddenly, Cas wanted to meet this person. It would be nice to meet someone who could relate to the confusion he'd experienced with the human world.

"Still here. Maybe someday you'll meet him. If there's nothing else you need, we'll get that water and leave you to relax."

"Thank you." During the conversation, Cas had been sneaking little glances around the room, and in each of the corners and on the door he spotted sigils made of silver. Combined, they meant weakening and containing. There was no way he could break out of the room using brute strength. He would have to wait until he was taken out. The escorts left, and Cas found himself alone. What was he going to do?

* * *

"If it weren't so dang cold, I would say that we're at a real beach," Dean said, looking around at their surroundings. He could hardly see anything in the dark, but as soon as they'd arrived, they wanted to get a look at the last place Cas had been. "Look, there's sand, something like surf…"

"Uh-huh," Sam said, looking at a map. "Except it's forty-two degrees."

"Why do we gotta get caught in a cold snap?" Dean complained. "Okay, we've got Cas' location from his cell, and if he's not on an island or a boat, he's...out in the water. Can angels become mermaids?"

"I think we'd've known before now if Cas was able to do that," Sam pointed out. "What I'm thinking is that there's an island out there that isn't on modern maps. All we have to do is find it."

"Well, yeah," Dean agreed. "Question is, how?"

"There's a few methods I'm thinking of," Sam said, his nose an inch from the map. The flashlight he held wasn't helping much. "One, we could get a boat and search that way. It would take us a while, though. The second would be to…" He stopped and looked up as a helicopter passed by overhead.

Dean followed his gaze and then looked at his brother. "Oh, no. No, no, no. Uh-uh. One, it's flying. There's a reason I drive everywhere. Two, do either of us know how to fly it? I'm pretty sure that if we get a pilot and tell him we have to go rescue a kidnapped angel from a secret island, he's gonna call county mental health as soon as he can!"

"Do you see another option?"

Dean looked around. "Ummm…."

"My point exactly. Dean, it's Cas."

"I know it's Cas!" Dean snapped. "I'm just saying we have to be careful!"

Sam folded up the map and pulled a bag out of the Impala. "I know. We do have another possible few options. Before we left, I took a look at some of the spells that the Men of Letters had written down. I wrote down a lot of spells that I thought might be useful, and some of them are location spells. If we have something of Cas', then we can find exactly where he is, and then we could get him away. The only problem is that I have no idea if any of these spells would work."

"I don't see another option," Dean admitted after a minute. "Whaddaya got?"

Sam took out several sheets of paper from his bag and unfolded them, as well as several bags of ingredients and some bowls. "The most basic one is that we mix these powders, ignite them, and then let the smoke hit the object of the person we're looking for. It's best done at night since there will be a light showing where the person is."

"Any chance that anyone else will see that light?"

"Book didn't say."

"Great," Dean sighed. "Any other options?"

"A few," Sam said, turning over a page. "There's one where we can enchant a needle to point in the direction of the person, but it takes a couple of hours to work, and the set up is kind of complicated. Still, I think that would be better than a beacon. There's another spell that allows us to see what Cas sees and then we find him that way, but that will only work if we see something we can use as a landmark. If he's inside, then it'll be pretty useless."

"But it would work if we wanna check up on him, right?" Dean pointed out. "What about a spell that would let us talk to him? Got anything like that?"

"The only one I could find that didn't require a really elaborate set up would be this one here," Sam said, pointing. "We'd need to burn a few herbs and something that belonged to Cas, and if the person is in a relaxed state, then we can kind of slip into his head and talk to him."

Dean stared. "Any mention if any of that's been done with an angel before?"

"I doubt it anyone would have had a chance to try it," Sam confessed. "I mean, how would that have happened, and once you ask yourself that question and you consider the circumstances, do you really want to think about it?"

"Point taken," Dean agreed, looking over the spell. "Think we can do it?"

"Casting it is no problem. It's what happens once the spell starts to work that concerns me."

"Right. Is the person who casts it the one who gets to talk to Castiel?"

"Yeah."

"Then let me. He's gotta be scared out of his grapefruit by now. Demons and other angels and stuff like that he can handle, but his experience with humans is tiny in comparison. I think it'll reassure him if he talks to me."

"That 'profound bond' thing?" Sam asked with a little smile. "Okay, I can see that."

A quick run through of the spell with Sam and Dean was ready to cast it. They had all the ingredients needed plus a piece of a spare tie of Castiel's that would provide the link with him they needed. Taking his courage in both hands, he lit a match and dropped it into the spell.

Superman, Dean thought, was slow in comparison. At least, that was his impression. One second he was standing by the Impala and staring at the flaming spell, and the next he was flying through the air over the lake, and down, down...holy crap, he could see people! Firmly telling himself that he had not seen a guy sitting on the toilet, Dean tried to focus his thoughts on Cas. He was starting to wonder if the spell had somehow gone wrong when he found himself in a blank area, dark and quiet. "Cas?"

Immediately the scene changed and he was in the bunker library. "What the hell?"

"Dean?"

Dean whipped around just in time to find his arms full of angel. "Cas! Aw, man, you okay?"

"How are you here?" Cas asked, sounding stressed. "This is my head, isn't it?"

"Spell that'll allow us talk mind to mind," Dean explained. "Sam found it. You okay? Tell me if you're okay or not, we don't know how long it will last."

"I'm all right for the time being," Cas said at last. "They gave me a physical exam that I didn't enjoy, and then they took me to my room, and since then I've been trying to relax. It's not working too well."

"How are they keeping you where you are?" Dean knew from experience there were only a few things that could imprison an angel.

"Silver sigils in my room, and the manacles they put on me," Cas sighed. "I would really love to learn how they know what they know, but I doubt they'll tell me."

"At least you're okay," Dean said, clapping his friend on the back. "Cas, can you tell us if you saw anything that could help us find you? A landmark, anything like that?"

Cas thought back to the helicopter ride. "No, not really. I was blindfolded. I could hear things, though. There was a bell ringing in time with the movement of the water, and there was some electricity buzzing somewhere nearby when we landed. I think we're on an island."

"That's what Sam figured. Can you give us an idea of the shape of the building?"

"They didn't take the blindfold off until after we were inside. I can tell you that it's a two-story building, with a central wing, a wing that extends behind it, and a wing to the east and the west. The helicopter landed near it and I didn't hear it take off again, so there must be someplace for them to store it. They have a whole block where they keep...specimens, I suppose you'd call us. I didn't see any of them, though. They brought me straight to my room and locked me in."

"Have they hurt you?"

"Not to be cruel," Cas said after a moment's hesitation. "Most of it was...well, examining me. There was some of it that hurt."

Dean was about to ask for an exact list of everything that had happened to Cas and who had inflicted it, but a sudden tug in his mind made him realize that the spell was fading. "Listen, Cas, I don't have long. Sam and I are coming for you, so you just have to keep yourself safe until we can reach you. Can you do that for us?"

"Yes," Cas said, giving Dean another hug before he faded. It was more for his comfort than for Dean's, but if it comforted his friend, then so much the better.

"All right. Keep your eyes and ears open. We're…"

A reverse of his flight before, and he was lying on the ground next to the Impala, Sam tapping his face.

"Dean? Dean!"

"I'm okay," Dean said blearily, feeling his stomach complain at what he'd just put it through. "I'm good, Sammy. What happened?"

"One second you're staring into the bowl where the spell was burning, and the next thing, you collapsed. Did you talk to Cas? How is he?"

Dean shakily got to his feet and and swallowed a few times. Then, he darted into the nearest bushes and was sick. When he emerged from the bushes, Sam handed him a bottle of water and some tissues.

"Thanks," Dean said once he'd used both. "I talked to Cas, and aside from a physical exam that sucked and being locked up, they haven't hurt him. He's scared, though, and he wasn't able to tell me that much. It's a big building with a couple of wings, and he could hear a bell ringing in time with the movement of the water and some electricity buzzing. That's it."

"Well, it's more than we had before," Sam sighed. "I'm sure we can figure something out. You okay?"

"Let's just say I'm regretting having dinner," Dean said after a moment. He looked out over the lake and sighed. "Do you think we'd have better luck during the daytime?"

"Most likely," Sam agreed. "Bright and early?"

"Oh, yeah. Let's be nice and give these guys one last peaceful night. Tomorrow, they're going to have a couple of pissed-off Winchesters on their hands, and may they rest in peace."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Castiel found the camera two hours after he'd been left in his cell. As soon as he'd come out of the strange dream-state where he'd been able to talk to Dean, he stretched and winced when one of his wings knocked something off the bookshelf. He picked up the two books and replaced them on the shelf, but a hum somewhere over his head drew his attention. Up in the corner he spotted a small dome camera that blended in with the wall behind it. If he hadn't had a celestial being's hearing, he would have missed it entirely.

The invasion of his privacy was something that had never really been an issue for him before. Angels shared something of a hive mentality simply due to their nature, so "privacy" was not something they generally expected. They each had their own thoughts, of course, but the thoughts they had resembled angel radio: it was all alike. After he rebelled, he began to form more of his own identity, and after learning of Naomi's mucking about in his head, he'd jealously guarded his individuality. Living as a human had helped him build his conception of himself even more, and now, he had a strong regard for his own mind and his own will and his own personality.

"Privacy" had not been an issue with Sam or Dean. If they sensed he didn't want to talk about something, they didn't press him to divulge it...unless they felt he needed pushing, though. They knew he needed his own space, especially after what had happened to him with losing his grace and with Rowena's spell, so they'd provided him with his own space in the Bunker. He'd had other "spaces" that had been "his," and he didn't like that his captors had given him a space, called it his, and then proceeded to spy on him while he was in it.

Assbutts.

He tried not to think about it over the next few hours. He examined the books, the pictures on the wall, and finally turned on the television. He channel-surfed for a while and then settled down on a marathon of a procedural crime show. He enjoyed the characters far more than the plot and he wondered if Sam and Dean could somehow be the inspiration for the two main characters. They were a lot like the two brothers in attitude and the way they spoke. They even had names they called each other when they were annoyed. Castiel had heard the words "jerk" and "bitch" so often that they never even registered anymore.

After the marathon ended, Castiel got up and began to stretch, running through the exercises that would keep his vessel in shape and flexible. He would do more demanding exercises when he had the space for it, but for right now, the exercises were something to do. Sam had taught him a lot of them, and a few he'd seen humans doing over the years and he'd incorporated them into his routine. Once he finished the exercises, he removed his coat, jacket, and shirt and examined them, hoping he could somehow remedy the damage his wings had done. The tears in the cloth looked pretty gruesome, but perhaps Dean or Sam had a needle and thread...hmmm.

He replaced his clothes and curled up in one of the chairs to look through some of the books. All of them had bright, modern covers and the ink and paper smelled new. He'd been in thousands of book shops with Sam over the years: national chains, independent shops, used book stores...all of them had their own distinctive aroma. Whenever they entered a shop Sam would take a long, deep breath to savor the smell and Castiel had found himself mimicking him more than once. The scent of books was pleasant, and the "new book" smell that Sam so enjoyed was abundant with these books. There was a variety of them that was intriguing. There was a large art book the size of a paving stone that included full-color pictures of Renaissance artwork. The colors were a feast for the eye and Cas found himself flipping through it, page after page of color and form that exalted the eye and piqued his mind. When he reached the end, he went back to the beginning and started turning the pages over again. A few of them he'd actually seen the artists at work on, and it was wonderful to see how the artworks had aged and the admiration they received today.

Three times through the art book and he wanted something else. There was one that was an anthropology book, detailing cultures all over the world, and he ended up opening that one next. He knew most of what the book was about already, but it was interesting to see modern knowledge about the cultures and how they'd changed over the centuries. There were a few, like the American culture, that had only come into being over the last few hundred years.

He grew bored of reading then and turned on Netflix. He turned on his favorite mystery show and lost himself in the adventures of the socially-awkward detective. In a way, the detective was a lot like him: he missed social cues and did not grasp pop culture all that well, and he forged his own path in life, as opposed to trudging the path that others wanted him to follow. He had quite a lot of fellow-feeling for the character and often he wished the man was real just so they could talk.

After five episodes, Cas turned the television off and stretched out on the bed. He was anxious and couldn't switch the emotion off, and at the same time, he was so tired that he felt as if he could go to sleep. It had been ages since he'd actually slept, and at the time, he'd enjoyed sleeping. Feeling warm and relaxed was wonderful, and when he'd had good dreams, sleeping had been pleasant. The only times he hadn't enjoyed it was when he'd had nightmares or when he'd been so weak that he woke up tired no matter how long he'd slept.

Could he sleep? Would it be possible? Would it be a safe thing to do? He was tempted to do it. The bed was glorious with a soft mattress, warm jersey sheets and a comforter, and best of all, a nest of pillows. He could easily prop his wings on them so he could lie on his side or his back. Those blasted sigils around the room for weakening were making him more tired than he could remember being for ages. What if he did sleep?

The thought was parent to the deed. He pulled off his coat, his jacket, slipped his feet out of his shoes, took off his tie, turned down the lights, and crawled into bed. He shifted about for a few minutes, cushioned his wings on some pillows, and made his limbs go limp. Gradually, his body relaxed and he could feel himself actually falling asleep, just like when he'd been human. He was so pleased with his success that he woke himself back up, but relaxing his body again helped him back into that pleasant state where he could feel himself falling asleep.

When he jerked awake again a few minutes later, he surged up out of the blankets and got to his feet, listening with all his being, poised to fight.

He'd heard something...or someone...in his room.

Everything was perfectly still, and everything was just as he'd left it. The door hadn't opened and he'd heard no one walk in, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was someone there. Taking a deep breath, he began to move carefully forward. His angel blade...did he have it? He tried calling it up and he had a full minute of panic when it didn't appear. Those damned sigils probably had something to do with it. Frightened that he didn't have a weapon, Cas sprinted forward and switched on the nearest light to reveal...no one.

There was no one in the room but himself. Nothing had been moved, and he knew the door hadn't been opened. He could see no one, hear no one's breath or hear their heartbeat, but there was still the feeling that there was someone there. Had he been dreaming? Was that what made him feel there was someone there?

After a few minutes, he settled back in bed, but he left the light on. He didn't see anything to put him back on high alert, so he focused on relaxing, and he finally fell asleep. He dreamed about one of his favorite spots on earth, aside from the bunker. It was an ancient forest in Russia, one where few, if any, people had ever reached. The trees were so old and so large that they looked like sleeping giants. It was deeply peaceful and when he'd been able to do it, he went there often. There had been times, with the rush of the wind through the trees, he'd thought he'd heard the planet breathing. That sound wrapped around him in his dream, calming him and helping him relax enough so he could sleep without dreams.

* * *

Both Sam and Dean wished they could sleep. They'd settled into a motel somewhere around midnight and tried to sleep, but it was proving to be impossible. Both of them were too keyed up to settle down enough to rest.

"Why would anyone want to kidnap an angel?" Sam said after the silence had grown too oppressive.

"Because they're dicks," Dean answered. "This surprises you?"

"Demons, yeah, I'd get that, and other angels, we've seen that, but why would a human want to?"

"Dunno," Dean admitted. "I don't really want to think about it too much."

Both brothers stayed quiet for a few minutes with their thoughts.

"How do you think he's doing?" Sam asked before the silence could become oppressive.

"He seemed okay when I talked to him, but I can say for a fact that he's scared," Dean told him. "He hugged me...twice."

Sam nodded. "Yep, he's scared." Sam knew that Cas wasn't exactly huggy unless it was something big.

"Mm-hmmm."

"I feel so helpless," Sam sighed. "Tomorrow we're going to get into a boat and head in the most likely direction and hope we come across that island."

"That's really the only plan we have."

"I know, but I kind of want to be there now, you know? Just so he doesn't have to be scared anymore."

"You've never said a truer word, little brother."

They both lay there for several minutes before Sam got up and opened his laptop. "I can't sleep."

"Gonna surf the Net for a while?"

"Yeah."

Dean rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but he gave up after twenty minutes and switched a light on. "Finding anything interesting?"

"I'm on that angel site again," Sam said, scrolling down the page. "You know, the one dedicated to Cas' video? The number of views is now in the millions, and you should see the forum. Plenty of them want to know why he's wearing a trenchcoat...oh, damn."

Dean got out of bed. "What? What is it?"

Sam started reading. "I read this great series of books called 'Supernatural' by Carver Edlund and in the books there's a trenchcoat-wearing angel called Castiel. Could this actually be him?" Now there's a whole thread about the Supernatural books and how much that angel in the video resembles Castiel."

Dean swore and started pacing. "That's the last thing we need; a bunch of Supernatural fans obsessing about this. What else do they say?"

Sam started reading responses. "He does seem like Castiel...wouldn't it be awesome if he were?...we should all set up cameras all over the world so we can catch him on video again...if Cas is real, do you think Sam and Dean are, too?...Does anyone know where this video was taken? We could go there and investigate!" Sam looked at his brother and frowned. "It's not like they really think this is all real and it's not like they can find more information on Cas…" He stopped and thought about it. "Can they?"

"If any of them are computer geeks, I wouldn't put anything past them."

Sam groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Oh, man." He ran his fingers through his hair and appeared to think. "Well, everything I've read so far points to them just talking about the books, so let's hope that nobody makes that connection that there's a real, live, flesh-and-blood angel that happened to get caught on camera."

"Amen."

They talked a little longer and Sam scrolled through the threads a little more. Most comments he read stated things like 'wouldn't it be great if that was really Castiel?' and 'how awesome would that be?' Sam was getting ready to shut down his computer when something odd happened. The image on the screen jumped, the screen went black, and for a split second Sam saw an image of himself peering at the screen before it switched back to the website. "Weird."

Dean had curled up in his bed, but he sat up when he heard that. "What's weird?"

Sam explained, and Dean got out of bed again to join Sam in peering at the screen. "Could something be wrong with your camera, Sam?"

"I don't know, Dean...maybe," Sam admitted, but then it happened again. This time, there was an image of both of them staring at the screen before it went back to the website. "Maybe I've got a virus."

"Yeah, maybe," Dean yawned. "C'mon, Sammy. Why don't you run the anti-virus and we'll get some rest while it does its thing, hmm?"

Sam got offline and set up the antivirus to run while he and Dean headed to bed. It would be supremely annoying if he had to face computer problems on top of Cas being missing.

* * *

Cas woke up the next morning feeling warm and cozy. For a moment, he thought he was in his bed at the bunker, but then he remembered what had happened and just why he was able to sleep again.

Those assbutts.

Rather than lay in bed and fume about his situation, Cas got up, washed his face and hands, straightened his clothes, made the bed, and waited. The clock showed eight o'clock; what time was that psychologist coming? Nine? Would he even want to see them or would he be bored the whole time?

Deciding not to drive himself crazy with worry, Cas turned on the television to one of the morning news shows. He watched a segment about the President and First Lady, watched a segment on adoptable pets, and was in the middle of a segment on affordable, easy meals when there was a knock at the door and then a buzz as it unlocked. He got up from his seat just as the door opened to reveal a red-haired, green eyed woman in a pantsuit and two guards.

"Good morning. Cas, is it?"

Castiel nodded. "Yes. Are you the psychologist I was told to expect?"

"I am. My name is Catherine Earnshaw and I am a psychologist for Central. They've asked me to interview you today and to work with you while you're here. Why don't we sit down at the table and get started?"

Cas switched off the television and took a seat that allowed him to keep an eye on the two guards that had stationed themselves in the room on either side of the door. Both of them wore dark suits, sunglasses, and he could see the faintest outline of holsters under their jackets. He was sure that guns were not their only weapons.

"Have you had everything you've needed so far?" Catherine asked as she sat down across the table from him.

"So far, yes," Cas admitted. "Eventually I will need to go outside and to exercise, but for the moment, I'm all right. I do not appreciate being kidnapped, though, or restrained, forced through a medical examination, or being locked up."

Catherine nodded. "That is unfortunate, but it is necessary. We need to know where each of our guests are, and each guest receives a medical exam when they arrive. Since we didn't know how powerful you were physically, you did have to be restrained, and as for the kidnapping, would you have come here any other way?"

"Of course not."

"So, you see, then."

Cas stared at her. "No, I don't, really."

She didn't answer the challenge. "All right, now that we've got that out of the way, how about we jump in? First of all, I have a few questions about you. What can you tell me about your early life?"

"Precious little," Castiel answered.

"Do you not remember?"

"No, there's not much I can tell you." Let her interpret that as she would. He really didn't like how...nosy...this place was.

She gave him a thoughtful look. "Okay. How old are you?"

"Eons."

"Is there a number attached to those eons?"

"If you were using geologic eons, perhaps fourteen."

Catherine nodded and pulled out a pad of paper and pen and started jotting things down. "Okay. Does that make you a very old angel, middle-aged, or younger angel?"

He thought about it and decided he didn't want to share it. "I have no way of knowing for sure. I don't think angels age like humans do." He knew he had plenty of older brothers and sisters, but she didn't need to know that.

"Well, of course, they don't," she said. "They're not the same. I was wondering what age you were compared with other angels."

Castiel thought about it. He had plenty of older siblings, but...was everyone older than he was? Surely he had younger siblings? Didn't he? "I don't know. I was never told."

She nodded. "All right. I get the feeling, Cas, that you don't want to talk to me."

"Not really."

She grinned at him then and laughed. "Well, no one could say that you're not honest!"

"I don't see how that was amusing," Cas said, a bit confused.

She took a deep breath and shifted in her seat, still smiling. "Let me see if I can explain. Most people wouldn't be that directly honest if a psychologist stated that the client didn't want to talk to them. They would hem and haw and give any number of reasons for why they're reluctant to speak, but they won't admit that they just don't want to. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"So, if you could leave aside how you came here and the fact that you're unhappy about being here, do you think you and I could work together for a few hours? I'm sure it will be a lot more pleasant for both of us if you do."

Cas thought about it. He was still furious about being kidnapped and being locked up, but it might help pass some time to talk to her. He was sure he would be very bored until Sam and Dean managed to find him or until he managed to find a way out. "I can do that. What is it that we'll be doing?"

"Well, to start, I'll be asking you some questions, and you answer how you like. Later, we'll work on some puzzles together. So, tell me, what's your earliest memory?"

That was too personal a question for him to answer. "I would prefer not to share it."

He was prepared for a debate on why he should share it, but she nodded. "All right. Have you always been an angel?"

"Yes." That he could answer with no hesitation.

"Did you have to grow into it, or have you always been the way you are now?"

"I've always been the way I am now." Technically, that wasn't quite true, but he wasn't going to go into the whole vessel circumstances and such. She didn't need to know that.

"All right. Do you have any other forms?"

Uh-oh. "Such as?"

"Something bigger? Smaller? Ethereal? Eternal?"

"Everyone has different forms at different ages," Cas said after a moment. "You're thinking in human terms, really. As for an eternal form, everyone on Earth does. It's called a soul."

"Do angels have souls?"

Cas thought about it. "I don't think that question would occur to an angel. We've always had our father's love, and that was all we were concerned about."

Catherine nodded and jotted more words down. "And your father...you're speaking of...God?"

Cas nodded. "My father."

"Are you close to him?"

Sometimes Sam and Dean could ask questions or make statements that were just plain confusing, but this was just...perplexing. "Close?"

"Do you often spend time with him? Do you and he talk?"

"All the time."

"How often?"

Once again, he was confused. "All the time."

"Do you enjoy each other's company?"

Cas smiled, remembering all the times he'd been near his father. There had been nothing in the universe that he'd enjoyed more. "Yes."

"Did he ever ask you to do things for him?"

"Yes."

"Did he ever make you do things you didn't want to do?"

Cas stared at her. What on earth or in Heaven did she mean? "I don't understand."

"Did he ever force you to do something when you didn't want to do it?"

Cas thought about it. Naomi and being 're-written' with new 'programming' had been bad, but he was sure that his father had not been responsible for that. "No, he did not. Why would he do that?"

She didn't answer the question. "If someone hurt you, would you try to hurt them back in the same way?"

"I think you already know the answer to that," Cas said coldly. "You still have your liberty while I do not."

She nodded and wrote that down. "Now, I was told when you were brought in that you were in the company of two human men. Who were they?"

"Friends."

"Do angels usually have friends?"

"We would be lonely if we didn't, don't you think?"

"That's an answer without actually being an answer, Cas."

"Still an answer, isn't it?" If Dean had been there, he would have laughed, and Sam would have smiled.

She jotted more down. "You're right. How long have you been friends with them?"

"A good while."

"How did you meet?"

"I was following my father's orders, and we met." Technically, it was true. "We became friends."

"And they gave you the nickname Cas. What's your real name?"

"For me to say it would deafen you." Let her think about that for a while. Despite his human appearance, he was still a celestial being. Sometimes, that was all too easy for others to forget, and usually, it was the last mistake they made.

To his relief, their talk soon switched to other matters. She pulled out a package of cards with different colored inkblots on them. He knew about them from pop culture, but this was the first time he'd ever seen them in real life, much less telling someone what the blots made him think of. Then, he had to answer a series of statements on a scale from 'strongly disagree' to 'strongly agree.' After that, they did a very long test that included looking at pictures and saying what the picture represented, stating how things or words were similar, answering general information questions, reading comprehension and following directions, doing calculations, repeating series of digits or digits and numbers back to Catherine, looking at line drawings and stating what was missing from them, making pictures with blocks, and then filling in a pattern that was missing the next symbol. After that, he had to match a series of symbols with numbers in different sequences and look at a group of symbols and find the one that didn't match the others. It was interesting, if confusing. He didn't understand why she was giving him a test designed for humans, but it helped pass the time.

After that, they played a game where she said a word and he told her what the word made him think of. To a human, his answers were wild and random, but to him, they made perfect sense. He took a great deal of satisfaction in watching her confusion grow, though.

"Well, it looks like you've given me a lot to think about," Catherine said after a few hours. "Is there anything you'd like me to know about you that you'd be willing to share?"

"I like bees."

"Bees?"

"Yes. Have you ever watched them?"

"No."

"You should. They're fascinating."

She took her leave after a few more small questions and Cas was left alone. He watched television for a while, flipped through some books, and listened to some music, and finally, he became tired enough to lie down for a while. He was drifting on the edge of sleep when he heard something move. His eyes snapped open, but once again, there was nothing there.


End file.
